Date: Mon, 14 Oct 2002 10:58:12 +0100 (BST)
From: rimboy
Subject: Putting on a show
This is a fantasy story involving gay sex. It is not my intention to shock
or offend, so if you are under 18 or it is illegal to read such stories
where you live (you have my sympathies) please exit now. Otherwise, enjoy,
remembering that this is fantasy and may include sexual practices that are
unsafe in the real world.
I really enjoy hearing what you think about my stories, so mail me if you
have any comments
Putting On a Show
What on earth was I doing here? The thought kept going through my
mind as I sat there waiting for the red light to come on. Half of me was
hoping that it never would, the other half knew that I desperately
needed it not only to come on but also to keep coming on all day. I
needed the cash; that was the answer to my question. I needed all the
money I could get and this seemed, at the time, the quickest option for
earning some easy money.
The other reason I was here was Mike. Because it was he who had
suggested it. I knew him vaguely from the gym I used. We sometimes
helped each other out in the weights room and occasionally had a
drink together afterwards before heading home. He seemed a regular,
easy-going guy. Once or twice I'd caught him checking me out in the
showers after gym, but I'd always put that down to what lay between
my legs. I'm hung. My balls started dropping and my cock growing
when I was about 12 and didn't stop till I was 15. Now I pack 2 egg-
sized nuts in my low-hanging ballsac and my uncut cock is 5 inch even
when soft in the showers. Trust me, none of the guys at the gym have
seen it when it's erect: then it weighs in at just under 10 thick, veiny
inches. So, I'm used to guy's checking me out. Gay or straight, they
can't resist taking a good, long look. So, I never thought that Mike
might be coming on to me, I just thought he was impressed with my
equipment. Now I wasn't so sure.
Mike had met me in the bar after gym just by accident. I must have
looked as miserable as I felt because as he settled into his seat he said
'So, what's wrong Ry'? 'Why the long face - you hoping to drown your
sorrows with those beers?'
He'd got it spot on. So even though I didn't know him that well, out
came the whole story. I'd lost my job, my girlfriend had moved out and
not only did I need to find a new job but also make up her share of the
rent on the over-priced apartment she had talked me into taking in a
supposedly up-and-coming (read expensive) part of town. The beers
loosened my tongue, and Mike kept lining them up - so when he'd told
me about this place as a way of earning good money quickly, it had
seemed like a really good idea.
Well, I can't blame the beers or Mike either. I'd made this decision by
myself in the cold light of a hangover the next day. I'd rung the number
he'd given me and the day after that here I was, sat on this bench in
this locker-room set, waiting for the red light to go on. Mike's idea - he
said he'd done it a few times when he was a grad student - was that I
should do Internet sex. You know, the sort of scenes for sad fuckers who
type in their card details to watch guys strip and play with themselves.
He said I was goodlooking, fit, hung (he smirked when he'd said this,
but I had been too drunk or was it desperate, to challenge him) - I'd
make a wad of bucks in a few weeks.
Now don't get the wrong idea; I am as straight as they come. I haven't
fooled around with guys since I stopped doing circle jerkoffs when I
was about 16. Even then guys had hit on me. I got used to the guys
staring at my heavy cock as they jerked off and later in college or in
restrooms guys were always checking me out. But ever since 16 I had
rarely gone more than a couple of weeks without a regular girlfriend
and in between times there had never been any shortage of eager
pussy waiting to be filled. I had nothing against gay guys, hell I might
even admit to getting off on their admiring attention. Certainly I had
got used to it. Here I was, 24, 6'2", blond and green-eyed with a firm,
muscular but not gruesomely over-developed body: of course the gay
dudes drooled over me. To be honest I was just a tad arrogant about
my effect on both guys and girls and there was a side of me that
enjoyed flashing my pale, globed butt, firm hard thighs, slim, flat waist
and heavy swinging tool in the locker-room. OK, I admit it; there's a
thick streak of exhibitionism that runs right through me. Who could
blame me with the something this size between my legs? Even when I
make out with girls I love to watch myself in a mirror. One of the hottest
scenes I'd ever had was with a girl I'd fucked for hours in a hotel room
while two guys watched from separate windows across the street and
jerked themselves off to the show we were putting on.
So that's what I was doing here. The thought of stripping, and showing
off my body got me vaguely horny. But I was nervous. Would I get the
dialogue right? Would I get a hard-on? Would there be enough
punters to pay the rent until I could get a proper job? Still, I'd be lying if I
didn't admit that part of me was just a tad excited at the prospect of
jerking off to a bunch of unseen admirers.
There was no rehearsal for this - and the interview had felt strange. On
the 'phone I'd said I'd pulled a few tricks at college, just to give the
impression that I knew what gay punters wanted. When I'd got here for
the 'screen test' just one guy interviewed me. He was tall, in his early
thirties and not at all the sort of dodgy dude I had thought would run a
business like this. He looked me over with cool appraisal, looked at his
notes then back up at me.
'You gay?' He asked.
I wasn't sure what to answer. I needed the job; did they only want guy
guys for 'authenticity'? Fuck it, I couldn't deny I was straight. I gave him
my best cool look.
'Nah, man, I'm straight, but I don't mind gays checking me out'
He smiled. 'Good, straight guys usually last longer in this business'. 'Let's
see what we'd be paying for: strip'. Of course, I knew they'd want to
see my body, but I was startled by the brusque order. I started stripping.
I didn't give it much thought, just took my clothes off like I was getting
ready for bed. When I got to my CKs and socks he slapped his hand on
the table and said. 'Now just slow down - you gotta strip better than this
on screen'. 'You ever do this before?'
There was something in his voice that made me nervous. 'No, sir' I
answered. Fuck, I thought, where did that 'Sir' come from? The dude
was only a few years older than I was and I was sir-ing the guy? Still, I
needed this job.
He got up. 'Well, you're a good-looking boy, but you gotta put more
feeling into taking your clothes off'.
'Try again, imagine you gotta turn me on by taking off your underwear'.
It was on the tip of my tongue to say 'Fuck off' and walk outta there.
But I didn't. I did my best. Slowly inching my CK's down, showing the top
of my pubes, turning to show off my butt crack and bending down to
pull off my socks. Finally I was naked and I stood in front of the guy as
he looked me over.
He smiled. 'That was better - and the punters will love that' he said,
nodding towards my heavy dick. But you might wanna shave your balls
and your asscrack. That drives most of the guys wild'.
'So you'll hire me Sir?' (Fuck, that Sir again)
'Yeah', he looked down at his notes, searching for my name, 'Yeah,
Ryan, we'll hire you'.
I almost sighed with relief. I started to dress.
A sudden 'No' stopped me. 'You wanna start now, you might as well
get dressed in character. You look like pure jock material. Put these on'.
He went to a cupboard, and threw over some gym kit - slightly soiled
jock, tight shorts and T-shirt. Grubby white sox. 'Your own gym shoes will
do', he said.
The clothes were tight. They showed off my body like I was some sort of
slutty male whore, which, I suppose, was what I was going to be. He
threw me a cheap gold chain for round my neck to complete the
trashy look.
He gave me a few guidelines: spin it out, the punters had to pay extra
for every 5 minutes online. Strip slowly, do what the guys ask (most of
them had mics, some used the high-toll 'phone number), but make it
last: early ejaculation (mine, not the sad losers watching) was not
encouraged. Deferral was the name of the game.
'Some of my boys use Viagra to keep hard - that gonna be a problem
for you? I can get you some if you need it. And you might wanna use a
cockring; there's an adult store just down the street'.
'I never had any problems keeping hard, Sir'.
'Good, well, we'll see, I'll be watching how you get on'.
***
The red light came on as my first punter chose my snapshot. I started
doing some stretching on the bench. I put my arms behind my head
and did a few ab curls, I turned and stretched over, let him see my
tight ass as it stretched the thin nylon shorts, turned and cupped my
packed jock-enclosed crotch. Then his voice came into the room
asking me to take off my T-shirt. He sounded hesitant and young. I
wasn't prepared for that, I'd thought of them all as old, pathetic jerks.
This guy sounded like a college student or something, not much
younger than I. I slowly stripped off my top: my John gave a gratifying
groan as my hairless, smooth chest and flat stomach were revealed. I
stroked myself in what I hoped was a sexy way. The voice became
more confident: he wanted me to feel my nipples. I did and was
startled at how sensitive they felt. I pinched them slightly and he
groaned again and as he did I felt my cock jerk just a little harder.
'Pull them harder, pull and twist your nipples harder'.
This was a second voice; another punter had joined the show. I hadn't
quite realised that this would happen. I'd thought it would be one on
one. Stupid, I know, but this second guy startled me. I did as the
second voice asked, pulling my hard nipples and pointing my chest
towards the camera. The gasps of desire from both my voyeurs were
unmistakeable and rather arrogantly I thought 'This is gonna be easy'.
I've already admitted that I have an exhibitionist side to my sexuality
but I wasn't prepared for how much I was enjoying this. My cock was
thickening and bulging my jock. As I pulled and tugged on my nipples,
my cock stiffened and I spread my legs wide on the bench to make
sure my punters could see. A third, much rougher, voice barked an
order.
'Put your hand down your shorts, rub your cock, show us the top of your
pubes'.
Something in me didn't like this third voice. I'd had the first two in MY
control - this guy's voice suggested that I was the one following orders,
that I was the one being controlled. I almost rebelled: but then
remembered why I was here. I needed money: and fast.
The orders and demands came fast now and, as slowly as I could, I
complied. I fondled my swollen cock through the thin shorts and ribbed
jock. I pulled my shorts down to show the top of my dark blond pubes.
Turned and showed just the very top of my ass crack. As the demands
grew something clicked in my head and I started to put on a show. I
became like a whore, shamelessly displaying my body - even smiling
like a slut at the camera and running my tongue over my lips.
'Take off your gym shoes and socks, sniff them, rub them on your
nipples'
Fuck, what sort of faggot shit was this? Sniff my socks and gym shoes?
What kind of perverts were these guys? But I had to admit that I was
getting so horned by all this. The sweatiness of my sox sent blood
rushing to my cock, the feel of the rough material against my swollen
nipples really got me hard. The orders continued
'Take off your shorts'. Spread your legs'. 'Sniff your pits'. 'Bend over and
show us your ass'.
By now I had 'lost' two punters - I heard the deeper breathing then soft
groans as they came - but I had gained about 6 more. They competed
to make me do more and more. Finger my ass. Sniff my finger. Show my
cockhead. Eat the precum from my fingers. Some of these things I
hadn't done since I was a permanently horny teenager and I had
forgotten just how much of a turn on the smell of my ass on my finger
could be and just how much I had always enjoyed licking my pre off
my fingers when I beat off 5-6 times a day.
At the back of my mind, despite my horniness and excitement. I
guessed that I had been 'on show' for about 40 minutes now. My cock
was aching for release. Several guys had begged me to take off my
jock and show my balls and full cock, and so horny was I that I knew I'd
have to cum soon. I turned. Pushed out my bubble butt ass and slowly
pulled down the strap. I bent over the bench, parting my butt cheeks,
running my fingers up and down my butt crack. I heard the camera
zoom in, they knew I was getting ready. I turned over and straddled the
bench. All my punters were now breathing audibly, moaning as they
jerked their cocks while they watched me. I showed off my full balls,
slapped my leaking cock a couple of times, licked more precum off
my fingers and started to jerk. Slowly rubbing my fist up and down my
swollen member.
One by one I heard the guys watching shoot their loads. Some did it
quietly. Some yelled out loud. Finally it was me and the guy who'd
been the most vocal and demanding in his orders. Now he had me
kneeling on the bench. Two fingers up my ass, the other stroking my
cock. He had me face the camera then he began a barrage of
abuse.
'You fucking dirty slut, you dirty faggot, I wanna see you cum you
worthless piece of faggot shit, you're getting off on this more than I am.
Suck your ass-smeared fingers you pussy-boy..
As the verbal abuse got more intense, I realised that I had passed the
point of no return. He was really turning me on. The things he said, the
tone of his sharp, masterful voice, I couldn't help but respond. I knew
that he was getting off on this and that turned me on even more. I was
approaching my orgasm.
'Yeah, I'm gonna make you cum, you faggot pervert, I'm gonna watch
you splash your cream all over that bench, gonna watch you lick up all
that hot cum from that bench like the cum-drinking slut you are'
Even as my mind protested against what he was calling me, his words
pushed me over the edge. I groaned loud, started yelling 'Yes, make
me cum, make me shoot' and finally I came. 8,9 no 10 long heavy
splats of white balljuice hit the bench in front of me, it was an
indescribably good cum. My whole body jerked with the power of the
feelings that shot through my churning balls and swollen cock. Deep in
my ass my fingers stroked my burning prostate as I shot out the copious
load of thick spunk.
'Lick it up, eat it' the voice repeated insistently. 'Eat it'. 'Lick up
all your faggot juice'. The voice was thick with desire.
I couldn't. Having cum, the shame of what I had done and felt as I had
orgasmed made me redden and flush. It made me disgusted with this
whole scene and suddenly the commands that seconds earlier had
excited me and taken over my whole mind and body now seemed
sick and perverted. I turned towards camera to switch it off, just as I
heard the disembodied voice groan out loud as he jerked himself to
orgasm.
As I cleaned up, my mind raced with what had just happened. Why
had I been so turned on by the whole experience, what did it mean?
Was I really a faggot like that guy had said? Why had he made me so
horny that I had just experienced one of the best cums I could
remember? Could I continue to do this?
Hope you enjoyed this story. Let me know what you think should
happen to Ryan next.